The Lobby is My Favourite Place to Hang
by OzQueene
Summary: Ten White Collar drabbles, covering Neal, Peter, Sara, Elizabeth and Moz. A mix of gen and het. Pairings Neal/Sara and Peter/Elizabeth.


**TITLE:** The Lobby is My Favourite Place to Hang  
**WORDS:** 1000  
**RATING:** PG  
**SUMMARY: **Ten White Collar drabbles, covering Neal, Peter, Sara, Elizabeth and Moz. A mix of gen and het. Pairings Neal/Sara and Peter/Elizabeth.

**NOTES:** This is my first foray into the fanfiction world of White Collar. I thought drabbles would be a good way of easing myself in. According to Open Office, each drabble is exactly 100 words long. Feedback would be much appreciated, especially if you'd like to see one of these scenes extended. :)  
Prompts all collected via a random word generator.

* * *

**MECHANICAL**

"Hon, maybe we should just call a mechanic." Elizabeth stood anxiously by as Peter hammered his car's engine with a wrench.

"Sweetheart, it's fine," Peter answered, his voice sounding rather tinny as he spoke from beneath the hood. "It just needs a stern talking to."

"It's just... You've been at it for an hour..."

Peter emerged, grease on the side of his nose and the front of his shirt. "Hon, it's just like the mechanics of crime..."

"Oh, good," Elizabeth said, darting back toward the house. "I'll call Neal to come help you."

* * *

**GLANCE**

"I saw that."

Neal feigned innocence, which is what he usually did when caught out. "Saw what?"

Sara stepped closer, her eyes narrowed. "You looked down my shirt."

"Glanced," Neal clarified, tracing his hands over her hips. "And it was purely an accident. The angle of the sun, you know..."

Sara rolled her eyes and put her hands on his shoulders, leaning forward. Her shirt gaped open. "Want a better look?"

Neal's eyes narrowed. "Why do I feel like this is a trap?"

Sara smirked, waiting. He couldn't help it. He glanced down.

* * *

**LABEL**

A shadow fell across Neal's desk. He looked up to see Peter frowning down at him.

Neal grinned. "Hey, Peter."

"Don't 'hey Peter' me," Peter said. He held out an empty sandwich bag. "Did you do this?"

Neal furrowed his brow, confused.

"You ate my lunch."

Neal held his hands up in innocence. "I would never."

"It's clearly labelled."

"So I see."

"It was leftover pot-roast."

"You think I'd steal your _pot-roast_ sandwich?"

Peter watched him carefully. "If you took it, I'll find out," he said. "Watch yourself, Caffrey."

* * *

**WRAPPING**

"You can't unwrap it yet!" Sara cried, snatching the gift out of Neal's hands. "It's only Christmas Eve!"

Neal looked affronted. "Then why'd you give it to me now?"

"You're supposed to have a tree with gifts under it." Sara glanced around.

"I can't have a Christmas tree." Neal waved his hand dismissively. "It upsets Moz. It's not worth the speech I'll get about commercialism."

Sara put Neal's gift aside. "Want to forget the presents and just unwrap each other?"

Neal grinned and cocked his eyebrow. "And to all a good night."

* * *

**SERVICE**

Jones slapped Neal's shoulder on the way past. "Nice work," he said.

Neal grinned at him. "Thanks."

Diana gave him a wink, and Neal grinned again.

Peter was a little more restrained, though Neal thought he could detect a certain amount of pride in his smile. "Good work, Neal. You really gave us a great break-through, today."

Neal shrugged and tented his fingers, feeling rather pleased with himself. He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the table. The green light on his ankle bracelet flashed regularly. "At your service," he said.

* * *

**THIEF**

Neal usually found it possible to stay cool under pressure. He was usually pretty convincing, too.

But there was something about Sara Ellis' eyes, glaring at him from across the other side of the courtroom, that was putting him off his game.

He'd stopped paying attention to the latest prosecution witness, labelling them as non-threatening. Instead, he looked back to Sara, and quirked the corner of his mouth in an amused sort of way.

She narrowed her eyes and drummed her fingers on the table. She mouthed one word, silently, and he felt a shiver run up his spine.

_Thief._

* * *

**SABOTAGE**

"We're winning, hon, so be careful," Elizabeth said, a glass of wine in her hand.

Peter turned to her, looking slightly exasperated. "El, it's _me_,"he said. "We'll be fine."

Neal smirked. "I dunno, Peter. I've seen you draw. I think Pictionary might be your undoing."

Sara held up crossed fingers. "Here's hoping."

Elizabeth waved at Peter to get started. "We can't lose our first couples game night!"

Peter looked to Neal, annoyed. "I should have known you'd choose Pictionary," he said. "This is a sabotage of what _was_ a fun evening."

* * *

**LOBBY**

"The lobby is always my favourite place to hang," Mozzie said, looking up at the hotel's ceiling.

Peter frowned, wondering if it was worth asking _why_. He was already having a bad day, having to wait with Moz while Neal charmed the concierge.

"You want to know why?" Moz asked.

"Not really."

"Because once you go into one of their _rooms_, you never know what sort of surveillance you'll be under!" Moz burst. "At least out here, it's _obvious_." He motioned to the security cameras wildly.

Peter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

* * *

**IMPOSSIBLE**

"So tell me," Sara said, slurring her words slightly as she fell onto Neal's bed, "any painting in the world, if you could steal it..."

Neal grinned and slid over her, supporting his weight on his arms. "This is hypothetical, right?"

"Oh, totally," she answered, and there was a wicked note in her voice that sent tingles across Neal's skin.

"Mona Lisa," he said. "Just to cause a stir."

Sara laughed. "Impossible."

"No, it's been done." He bent down and kissed her. "But I'd never."

She smirked. "Of course not."

* * *

**BREAKFAST**

"You make me feel like a king, every morning," Peter sighed happily, looking down at his toast.

"It's a little early for sarcasm, don't you think?" Elizabeth asked.

He smiled at her brightly. "Not sarcasm, hon. A beautiful woman at my side during breakfast. What more could I want?"

Elizabeth laughed and sank onto his lap. "What about Satchmo?"

Peter looked over the edge of the table. Satchmo was waiting hopefully for a crust. "Okay, I need Satchmo too," Peter said. He nuzzled his wife's neck. "But you're always top of the list, El."


End file.
